


Future Games

by mister_otter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Mystery, Romance, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 17:54:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2701970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mister_otter/pseuds/mister_otter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A magical game. A magical mishap. Can Hermione solve Draco's problem before something even worse happens?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Future Games

__

“I did a thing last night

You know, those future games

I turned off all the lights 

and oh, the future came…”*

A low fire burned in the eighth year common room, warding off the chill of an October night.

Hermione sat draped across a wing chair, toes pointed toward the toasty flames and Crookshanks by her side, the journal she’d been updating with N.E.W.T.s study notes forgotten in her lap.

Her concentration had vanished the moment Luna Lovegood had appeared in the doorway, airy as a sylph, and in typical Luna fashion, begun a conversation with no preface at all.

“Harry says it feels really good the first time you do it. He says it’s a little like being drunk. Or maybe a lot.”

With an exasperated sigh, Hermione closed her book. She would have liked to pretend that Luna wasn’t there, that it was only the voice of the night wind speaking to her. But Luna wasn’t going away. Nor was the small, fierce argument they’d been having for weeks now.

“Harry is a _wizard._ ” Perhaps stating the obvious would make more of an impact on her friend than Hermione’s past attempts at persuasion. “You are a witch. Girls sometimes experience things differently. I’m not sure I’d base my expectations on what it felt like for Harry.”

“I suppose you are right.” Luna’s blue eyes were focused on a middle distance that was nowhere near the room’s actual center. “But nearly everyone in eighth year has done it, and some of the seventh years. No one has died yet. Though it’s possible I could be the first.”

“I wouldn’t think you’d die, but it is _magic_ we’re talking about— of an unauthorized, un-researched sort. I’m not sure I’d risk it.” 

“It” being a strange and possibly dangerous game invented or discovered or somehow created— Hermione wasn’t sure which— by Blaise Zabini. “It” involved the Mirror of Erised, a Pensieve, reflected moonlight, and the exchange of money. 

Based on descriptions from those who’d played the game, its effects could _possibly_ be compared to the use of a mild hallucinogen. One that allowed the player to see glimpses of the future. Hermione wasn’t sure about that, either, though the research potential made her belly tingle.

The whole concept seemed to intrigue the hell out of the entire eighth year group, and now the seventh years were getting involved. Including Luna, who’d been arguing for several weeks in favor of having the experience.

“Harry says…”

“Bloody hell!” Hermione unconsciously blurted the favorite phrase of her favorite ex-boyfriend, Ron. “Harry’s a wonder, I agree. But he doesn’t know _everything_ there is to know.”

Never mind that in defeating Voldemort that summer, Harry had re-hung the moon and re-aligned the stars for most of their classmates. When autumn came, they’d all gone back to Hogwarts at the Ministry’s request, creating, as the Minister put it, “an atmosphere of stability and continuity” for the younger students.

_All_ of them. Including a slightly subdued, less arrogant Draco Malfoy. One who’d apologized for past mistakes. One that Hermione, to her surprise, found strangely compelling.

Sometimes when her thoughts drifted, as they often did since the war, she’d discover Malfoy peering at her from the hidden depths of her mind. Like a giant squid waving tickly tentacles to lure her in unawares…

“Resist the Squid, Hermione,” she told herself now.

“But Harry’s _done_ it,” Luna was saying, her stance as quietly immovable as a small, blonde standing stone. “He’s played the game. That means he knows more about it than I do. Or _you,_ since you haven’t done it either.”

There was no point in arguing with _that_ logic.

“Aren’t you the least bit curious? Or could it be that you’re afraid?” Luna’s voice was gentle, probing. “Is that what’s really holding you back?”

“No. I like to know what I’m jumping into before I leap. That’s the wisest course to follow. No one knows if what they’re seeing is really the future, or a simple hallucination. I just think…”

“… that you’ll be the lone hold-out. Fine, Hermione— but I’m going to do it. And I wish that, as my friend, you’d at least be there with me.” Luna’s gaze was wide-eyed and guileless, as if she hadn’t the least inkling of the guilt spell she was casting on the other girl. “I’m going to the _Camera Obscura_ and see for myself.”

The _Camera Obscura._ Blaise’s _clever_ nickname for the dark, vaulted, forgotten room where he and Theo had accidentally discovered the Mirror of Erised during Hogwarts’ post-war restoration. 

“Oh, all right, then.” Hermione suddenly shoved her notes aside and reached down to begin tugging her boots over her stocking-clad feet. “I give up. I’ll go with you.” Her unplanned capitulation made perfect sense, she reasoned, worn down as she was by Luna’s persistent pestering and desperate to return her focus to studying for N.E.W.T.s. 

“Let’s get this over with once and for all. Bloody, _blazing_ hell.” 

Hermione hoped she wasn’t invoking Ron’s presence with her imprecations. The sight of him making sad Spaniel eyes at her across the _Camera Obscura_ was more than she felt like dealing with this evening. 

“Thank you, Hermione,” Luna murmured. “I think it will be a good learning experience.”

Hermione managed not to snort as she placed Crookshanks gently on the floor. “Stay, Crooksie. Mum will see you after… whatever.” She stalked across the room in Luna’s wake, the swing of her short, plaid skirt signaling her disgust. Seconds later, the door slammed behind her and she was gone.

Crookshanks remained by his mistress’ empty chair, watching her retreating back with wise, knowing eyes, his head filled with puckish thoughts of mortals and their foolish ways. 

Hermione Granger was as curious as the most inquisitive of his own species. No matter how much she denied it, he’d long known his mistress wanted to participate in the magical mirror game. Even better, the room where the mirror was hidden often contained that boy with eyes the color of a silvery sardine’s belly. The one who intrigued Hermione in ways that led to human mating. 

Curling up on the hearth, Crookshanks settled down to wait for his mistress’ return, purring in smug contentment. Hermione could conceal the truth from herself all she wanted, but there was little she could hide from her cat and his formidable intuition.

He was her familiar, after all.

*

Hermione’s quick steps took her down endless corridors, with Luna skipping farther and farther ahead. Rounding a corner, she saw Luna finally stop at a shadowed doorway where a tall figure lurked. Probably someone Blaise had assigned as guard to warn of approaching Hogwarts staff.

As Luna opened the door and slipped inside, dim light spilled out, onto the blond hair of Draco Malfoy. Hermione’s steps slowed but nevertheless carried her forward until she was standing in front of him.

“Is there an entrance password?” she asked. 

“No password needed,” he replied softly. “Especially not for _you_.” 

Something in his tone made her look up abruptly, into eyes that were the color of a grey, Oxford cloth shirt. One you’ve worn and washed until it’s become soft and comfortable— your favorite thing, the one you reach for first… Hermione felt her senses reel. There had never been the slightest thing _soft, comfortable,_ or _favorite_ about Malfoy. Until now.

Taking a step closer, he brushed a stray curl from her cheek. 

“You look pretty this evening. But then, you have done for a long time now. More than pretty, though.” He cocked his head to one side. “Fierce, I think. Clichéd, yeah?” He shrugged and smiled. “But it fits you so well.” 

“M… Malfoy?” She took a step back, gazing at him with a startled expression. It was true that he’d been very _human_ since eighth year started, and also true that she’d begun to find him more than intriguing. But this… this sudden familiarity was too unexpected to even contemplate. 

“I’ve been wondering when you’d show up here, Hermione. Hoping night after night that you would. It’s good to see you somewhere besides N.E.W.T.s study group.” 

His breath touched her face as he leaned closer. Peppermint, with not even the faintest hint of fire whiskey. So… not drunk. And if not, then why the sudden intense show of interest? 

Again Draco moved, warm and real and coming closer by the second. Hermione’s heart began to pound with the thunder of race horse hooves. Was he about to kiss her? And hadn’t she been fantasizing about that very thing, each time they sat across from each other while studying? 

Unconsciously she swayed toward him, rising on her tip toes as her eyes drifted to his mouth and then closed in anticipation, a thousand shivery tingles racing over her skin.

Instead, his lips brushed her ear. “I’m going to need your help, you know,” Draco murmured. “Sooner, rather than later.”

Then he stepped back and was gone, striding down the corridor into darkness.

“Malfoy?” she called after him. “Aren’t you… aren’t you coming in?”

He neither answered nor looked back as the shadows swallowed him up.

Hermione stared after him, struggling against the surreal sense his closeness had caused. Obviously, there had been more on Malfoy’s mind during study group than she’d realized. Hers, too.

_Get a grip right this minute_ , she told herself now. _You can’t just stand out here in the dark puzzling over it._

Wiping damp palms against her skirt, Hermione opened the door to the _Camera Obscura_ — and was immediately confronted by the sight of Draco Malfoy, lounging on an old sofa in the center of the room like a king on a shabby throne. Pansy Parkinson was draped on his right side, Astoria Greengrass on his left, her long legs slung possessively across his lap, his hand on her thigh. 

Hermione’s mouth dropped open. How could he be _here,_ when thirty seconds ago he’d been standing outside the door, with her? She glanced at Pansy and Astoria again. Then her eyes locked on Draco’s.

“That’s an awfully intense stare, Granger,” he taunted, as Astoria scowled up at Hermione. “Maybe you wish you were the one sitting on my lap?”

Unable to trust what she was seeing, Hermione moved closer and realized that for all his mocking words, Draco was the one with the intense stare. In the dim light of the _Camera Obscura,_ he was watching her with a focus so concentrated that it made her shiver.

Before she could collect her thoughts or respond, Blaise was at her side, taking her hand to lead her toward the room’s lone window. Hermione glanced back at the trio on the sofa, ignoring the murmurs and whispers that had greeted her entrance and Draco’s reaction to it.

“Great show of bravery,” Draco said now. “Walking away without answering, when asked an honest question. All well and good, Granger. But I’m going to need your help, you know. Sooner, rather than later.”

Hermione froze. Those were the same words he’d used outside the door. For the second time that evening, her senses reeled. She could hear Astoria nattering on about being all the help Draco would ever need… and suddenly she caught on. A Time Turner! He was using a bloody Time Turner so that he could guard the door and still not miss what was happening in the _Camera Obscura._

Relieved that she was neither seeing things nor losing her mind, Hermione looked at Draco and laughed out loud. 

In an instant, he was off the sofa and across the room. Wrenching her hand from Blaise’s, he squeezed her fingers. Hard. 

As he’d done in the corridor, Draco leaned in until his lips touched her ear. “Don’t laugh at me, Granger,” he growled. “Don’t you dare. Not when I’m being honest with you.” Thrusting her hand away, he stalked back toward the sofa.

Dead silence enveloped the room. No one could have heard what Draco said, but Hermione knew they could all see the flaming red that lit her cheeks. How dare he? And in what way had he been honest? By asking for her help, maybe? Something to do with N.E.W.T.s? 

It was the only logical explanation in an evening full of things that needed explaining. Badly.

“Come on. You’re next up.” Blaise took her arm as the watching group released the collective breath they’d been holding. 

Stunned by Draco’s behavior, Hermione wanted nothing more at the moment than to get away from him. She crossed the room to where Theo stood with the accoutrements of the game. The Mirror of Erised, tall and mysterious, angled toward the sky outside the window. A Pensieve on a small pedestal, tilted to receive the moonlight that the mirror would reflect. 

Blaise seated Hermione on a low chair that faced the mirror. Someone extinguished the lights and the room slipped into darkness. Hermione knew that the game could only be played at certain times, when the moon was in the right position. Tonight, it sailed by the window at three-quarters brightness, ghostly white and beautiful. In spite of her confusion over Malfoy’s odd behavior, she felt a sudden surge of excitement. There was no point in denying it. She’d wanted to do this for weeks.

“Stare into the mirror.” Blaise spoke from somewhere behind her while Theo adjusted the mirror so that the captured moonlight struck the silvery surface of the Pensieve, reflecting it back in a glowing stream. “We invent the future from our deepest thoughts and desires. What will yours be, Hermione? Concentrate as hard as you’ve ever done.”

Turning toward the mirror and focusing on the silver disc at its center, Hermione was hit by a burst of euphoria unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Flashes of bright color whorled through her mind and she felt herself step forward, even though she knew she hadn’t left her seat.

Then the colors disappeared and she was beneath the sky on a clear night, the air cool against her skin. She was standing on an abandoned bridge over a high, narrow gorge. Grass grew here and there on the empty roadway that crossed the bridge and mist filled the chasm beneath. Even in the darkness, she sensed the gorge was deep.

Why was she here? The moon loomed huge overhead, and as she turned first left and then right, she recognized a figure coming onto the bridge at either end. Draco Malfoy. Two of him, white-blond heads enveloped in matching halos of moonlight. 

“Help me, Hermione.” His voice came eerily from both sides at once. “The moon is almost full. You’re the only one that can fix this.”

“Fix what, Draco? What have you done? Why are there two…” Her words were cut off on a gasp, as the two Malfoys suddenly ran toward each other and began what seemed to be a frenetic struggle, right in front of her. They fell to the roadway of the bridge, kicking and flailing, and then with a fearsome yell, rolled toward the wooden railing— which promptly broke, sending them plummeting over the edge.

“Malfoy! Draco! Oh, gods!” Hermione screamed, frantically turning this way and that as fog filled her vision, obliterating everything in its path. 

She couldn’t save both of them. She couldn’t save either of them. They’d fallen to their deaths and she’d done nothing to help… “Draco!” she screamed again, crumpling to the abandoned roadway as everything went black. 

When Hermione opened her eyes, her head was swimming. Blurry faces loomed over her. She realized she was stretched out on the floor of the _Camera Obscura,_ which buzzed with excited chatter.

“I can’t believe she was screaming Malfoy’s name.” 

“Yeah. And it sounded like the best sex _ever_ ….”

“Damn! All I saw when I played was a Ministry desk covered in files…”

Slowly, faces swam into view. Luna. Blaise. _Draco._ There was no mistaking the look of genuine concern in his eyes. Or the sound of genuine snark in his voice when he spoke.

“Lucky Granger. Sounds like a night with me is somewhere in your future.”

Hermione gazed at him in horror. A night with Malfoy was in her future, all right— a night in which he fell to what had to have been certain death. Twice.

It was all too much. The vivid vision, Malfoy’s strange behavior, her secret attraction. Struggling to her feet, she burst into tears and fled the _Camera Obscura_ , slamming the door behind her and running as fast as she could toward the eighth year dormitory.

When Luna found her minutes later, she was curled up in a chair, staring into the fire, Crookshanks by her side.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Luna asked gently. “Talking helps to clear the cobwebs out of our heads. We all get brain spiders sometimes.”

“Thanks, but I don’t think so.” Hermione swiped at her cheeks. “It’s just that what I saw was so awful…”

“Is sex with Draco really that bad?”

“Oh no, it would be brilliant! I mean… no, sex wasn’t what I saw!”

Hermione realized she didn’t need to discuss her vision with anyone. She needed to talk to Draco first.

“It’s just… Malfoy really got under my skin tonight. That must be why I saw him in the game. From the time he let us into the _Camera Obscura_ …”

“What do you mean ‘he let us in?’ Draco wasn’t at the door. He was inside, on the sofa.”

“Yes, but right before _that_ he was watching the door. He let you in, and then me. He must have been using a Time Turner to be both places.”

“Hermione, I let myself in.” Luna sounded puzzled. “The room’s Spelled to automatically admit only seventh and eighth years. There was no one watching the door when I got there.”

Hermione stared. She wanted to reply but her lips simply would not form words. Draco had been standing at the door, deliciously close and larger than life. But Luna hadn’t seen him.

“Hermione? Are you listening? ” Luna waved a hand in front of her face. “There’s a spell I know for getting rid of brain spiders and their pesky webs. We’ll just need a paper bag for me to put over your head while I do it…”

“That sounds good, Luna. You go and find one. I’ll wait right here.”

A few minutes later, Luna was gone and Hermione was slipping out the door. She had to see Draco. Now.

*

Malfoy was damnably easy to locate. As she closed the door, she saw him further down the corridor, lounging against the stone wall. Taking a deep breath, she walked in his direction.

“Draco. I need to talk to you.”

“Probably not as badly as I need to talk to you.”

He pushed off from the wall, moving toward her until she was once again gazing into his eyes— Malfoy grey, but without the storms. Eyes that were filled instead with a deep yearning. 

“You thought I was going to kiss you earlier this evening, when we were talking outside the _Camera Obscura._ ” His voice was low, regretful. “The truth is I did want to kiss you then. More truth— I can’t remember a time when I didn’t want to kiss you. You’re the girl I’ve wanted to kiss the longest and one of the few I never have.”

Startled, Hermione swayed toward him and caught herself just in time. “Draco, we need to talk about there being _two_ of you, and both of them in danger! This isn’t about kissing!”

“You’re wrong, Hermione.” He touched her cheek. “Sooner or later, everything is about kissing.”

She didn’t know whether to scream and shake him, or wrap her arms around him, start the kissing right _now_ , and keep going until one of them passed out from lack of oxygen. 

How often had she sneaked glances at that mouth during N.E.W.T.s study group, and imagined this moment? How many times had she noticed him looking back at her as if he knew exactly what she was thinking? And approved of it. That must mean _this_ Draco was telling the truth. 

He gently took her by the shoulders, positioning her against the wall of the corridor. She caught a hint of the fragrance he always wore— the one that made her think of silver cuff links, fine vodka, and international spies. His thumb brushed her bottom lip, cool and light as a touch of snow, and then he was tilting her chin upward... Hermione felt her knees weaken, along with her resolve. It didn’t matter if there were two of him, or forty-five of him. This one wanted to kiss her and she planned to let him. Her lips parted, just as she heard Luna calling her name. 

She whipped her head around at the sound of Luna’s voice and felt Draco’s warmth disappear. When she turned back, he was gone. 

“Hermione?” Luna skipped up to her. “What are you doing out here all alone? I’ve got a paper bag. Now we can take care of…”

Luna hadn’t seen him. Again.

Laughter bubbled in Hermione’s chest. Covering her face with both hands, she slid down the wall onto the cold, stone floor of the corridor. She was going mad, wasn’t she? Totally round the twist, thanks to Draco Fucking Malfoy and Blaise’s Future Game for Lunatics.

Hermione didn’t bother to resist as Luna slipped the bag over her head and began to chant the anti-brain-spider spell.

=======================================================

__

Part Two

When Hermione woke the next morning, the sky outside her window was late-October blue and the eighth year dormitory was quiet.

Snagging a muffin and coffee from the common room, she headed to the library, book bag slung over one shoulder. It was Saturday and everyone would be out of the castle, occupied with the season’s first Quidditch match. A big plus for her, since last night’s events in the _Camera Obscura_ would no doubt top today’s hot gossip list. She wouldn’t have to face the stares until dinner.

Let’s see… should she spend the morning organizing her N.E.W.T.s study notes, or trying to determine if she were truly going insane? Hermione sighed and shook her head. No contest, really. And Luna’s assessment of the Future Game as _a good learning experience_? Dead wrong. _Twitchy mad shit-storm_ was a better fit.

Hermione crossed the library, walking through slants of morning sunlight to a row of study tables near the windows. And, of course, Malfoy was already there, slouched in a chair at her favorite table and surrounded by stacks of books. Could there really be _two_ of him? If so, which was she seeing now?

The answer became obvious when he raised one foot and unceremoniously kicked out a chair for her. 

“Sit,” he commanded, with an imperious wave of one hand. “I need your help.”

Hermione lowered her bag to the floor and warily took a seat, watching Draco carefully. There were shadows beneath his eyes and his stare had the same dark intensity she’d seen last night in the _Camera Obscura._ This wasn’t the Malfoy who’d wanted to kiss her in the corridor. This was the _other_ one.

“Why do you want my help?” she asked.

“I didn’t say _want,_ Granger. I said need. There’s a difference.”

“Are you absolutely sure about that?” 

Draco gave her a long, level look and then sighed. “No. At the moment I’m not sure about anything. I’m not exactly myself, all right? There seem to be two of me. I know you know it’s true, because only _you_ can see the other one.”

Hermione slumped in her chair, a vast sense of relief washing over her. She wasn’t going mad! Malfoy genuinely had a double.

“I thought at first you were using a Time Turner.”

“Logical assumption. But no— there was a… magical incident this week. Part of me got accidentally sheared off.”

“Maybe you’d better start from the beginning.”

“And maybe you’d better let me decide how to tell my own story,” Draco snapped.

“Then _maybe,_ if I’m going to help you, you could consider being civil.”

Draco shoved his fingers through his hair. “I guess that might make more sense,” he muttered, shifting in his seat. “After Blaise and Theo found the Mirror of Erised, Blaise spent the summer in Italy going through his grandfather’s library, looking for different ways to take advantage of it. He uncovered a book that describes what he calls ‘the Future Game.’”

 

Hermione nodded and Draco continued. “Blaise brought the book and his grandfather’s Pensieve back with him, planning to use the game for fun and profit. You’ve seen how it works. Fucking brilliant idea— except that it _wasn’t,_ for me. There was a whole chapter of caveats that Blaise failed to notice, and I got hit by one of them.”

“Explain.”

“If the game is played at certain phases of the moon, strange things can happen. Without knowing it, I viewed the moon’s reflection when it was exactly half. Somehow, I split into two people.”

“You got halved.” Hermione voice was thoughtful. “Magical accidents aren’t that uncommon in our world. But why am I the only one who can see the other you?”

To her amazement, Draco’s cheeks flamed bright red. Embarrassment? Anger? A combination of both, most like.

“Because… well, I might have been focused on _you_ when I split. Blaise, Theo and I tested it out. No one else can see the second Draco. But the other me seems to be…”

“Softer.” Hermione murmured. “More romantic. Well able to express his sensitive side. I know. I met him twice, last night.” Then, “Why were you focused on me, Malfoy?” A tiny smile touched her lips as she remembered the way the other Draco had reacted to her. “Could it be that you actually fancy me?”

Draco scowled. “You might want to ask my ‘sensitive side’ that question.”

“He’s not here. So I’m asking you.”

Draco’s scowl deepened, then suddenly resolved itself into a nasty little smirk. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me across the table during study group, Granger. Maybe the only thing I fancied was seeing if a one-off with the Gryffindor princess might be somewhere in my future. You and me. In my bed. Under a stairwell. In an empty classroom. I’m not particular.” He grinned wickedly. “But me actually _fancy_ you? Don’t flatter yourself.”

Hermione lifted her chin. “That’s not what the other Draco said. He told me that he… you… had always wanted to kiss me. In fact, he implied that I’m the first girl you _ever_ fancied.”

Again, Draco’s face flamed. “Maybe the other me is a damned liar.”

“Or maybe _you_ are.”

Draco made no reply, but his tense posture and averted eyes told Hermione all she needed to know. She leaned back in her chair, deciding to let him off the hook. For now.

“Does it feel strange?” she asked. “Being halved that way?”

“Fuck yeah. Feels as if I’m lighter on one side than the other. Weird and unbalanced, all the way around. Tense and angry.” He gazed out the window at the bright October sky. “Less… nice than I was trying to be.”

And he had been— before the game. Not just trying but actually making it work, since they’d come back for eighth year. Impulsively, Hermione reached out and touched his hand in sympathy. He pulled away, but that was the reaction she’d expected. 

“Draco, what did you see when you played the mirror game at the half moon?” she asked softly.

“Nothing,” he replied. “There was no vision, only this gargantuan pain. A feeling of being torn, for lack of a better description. I almost blacked out. When my sight cleared, there was the other me. I reached for him and he ran. Blaise and Theo were in the room. They never saw him.”

“But you’ve seen him since?”

“Several times. And he’s spoken to me, too.” Something in Draco’s tone made Hermione look up sharply.

“What does he tell you?”

“Always the same thing. The same fucking taunt, delivered with a smile.” His gaze met hers in a wide-eyed stare. “ _The moon’s almost full_ ,” he parroted. “ _And when it is, I’m going to kill you._ ”

*

Hermione sat back with a gasp. “The moon’s almost full” quote had been in her vision when she’d played the Future Game, but no one had said anything about a deliberate _killing._ Unless that mad tussle between the two Dracos on the bridge was meant to finish one or the other of them off. Either way, someone was going to die.

This was no knotty Arithmancy problem waiting to be solved. This was priority. 

“Malfoy, you seemed aware that I could see the other Draco before I even told you. How did you know?”

Once again Draco didn’t meet her eyes, pink color still riding high across his cheeks. A sure sign of attraction, no matter how much he might deny it. 

“The other one is still me, all right? I… I felt it, when he was talking with you.”

“I need you to be honest.” Hermione watched him closely. “Did you realize the other Draco was planning to kiss me? Was there any truth behind the things he said?”

In response, Draco’s eyes dropped to her lips, his gaze sliding over her mouth with a slow-burning heat she could almost feel. Suddenly, he swept several books to the floor and jerked up from his seat, the chair tipping over behind him with a noisy clatter. 

“Leave it, Granger. I don’t _want_ your help after all,” he growled. “I can solve my own bloody problems.”

He strode across the library to the door, his robes billowing behind him in a way that reminded Hermione of Snape, whose choices during his Hogwarts years had denied him the one person he’d cared about the most.

It was a correlation that would stay with her for the rest of the day.

*

Kneeling on the floor to gather the books and papers Malfoy had sent tumbling, Hermione was suddenly aware of boots beside her. She looked up and up, past long legs and a lean torso to a pale, handsome face.

“Come back to apologize for being an arse, have you?” she asked.

He smiled, and in the bright morning light, she could see that his eyes were lighter in color, his skin more fair. Hermione sighed. This was the _other_ Other Draco.

“Let me help you,” he offered, righting the chair and returning the books to the table, then holding Hermione’s elbow to raise her to her feet.

But Malfoy’s earlier words about his double’s murderous intent were caught in Hermione’s brain, and she felt uneasy.

Draco moved closer, looking down at her with that same soft longing she’d seen last night. Slowly, he reached out and took her wrist. She stood still, too entranced to move away in spite of her fears.

“Hermione. Your heart’s beating all rabbity-fast.” His voice was low, his smile tender. “I know what the other me told you. You don’t really believe his nonsense, do you? Think about it. Remember how he treated you and your friends. All the abusive name-calling, the sneering superiority. Could you really believe he’d changed this year, just like that?” He snapped his fingers.

“He… _you_ … apologized. I felt it was sincere.”

Draco shook his head. “Such a Gryffindor. Bravely ready to believe the best of everyone. He’s lying to you, Hermione. He’s the one who wants to do the killing. I’m the side he wants to get rid of.”

Hermione’s heart pounded as she gazed into his eyes. This close in, with the sunlight on Draco’s face, she noticed something she’d not seen in the dim corridor last night. A splinter of silver in one eye, like a sliver of moonlight stuck in the grey of one iris. Words like ‘lunacy’ and ‘moonstruck’ and ‘Bellatrix’ floated through her head.

Draco’s hand slid around her waist, pulling her even closer. He brushed her curls aside, his breath warm against her neck. 

“Draco, no.” Hermione pushed him firmly away, then whirled and headed toward the door.

He caught her in two steps, a wild look flaring in his pale eyes, his fingers a sudden vise on her arm. She glanced down in surprise and noticed that for all its force, Draco’s hand wavered for a brief second, glimmering and less substantial than a normal hand. 

The word ‘unstable’ added itself to the vocabulary list in Hermione’s head.

“Leave if you like.” A spike of sunlight glinted off the strange silver fleck in his eye. “There’s nowhere you can go that I can’t follow. When the moon’s full, you’ll know it’s true.”

With a sudden clack of heels, Madam Pince appeared around the corner of the shelves. Hermione felt the pressure on her arm ease. Draco had gone, without a sound.

“All alone, dear?” the librarian asked. “I saw Mr. Malfoy sitting with you earlier, before I went off to work in the Restricted Section. But he seems to have vanished.”

_Madam, you don’t know the_ half _of it_ Hermione mused, smiling grimly at her own pun. 

She needed to find Malfoy— the one who’d stormed out while Madame Pince wasn’t looking. No matter how much he might resist it, he and she had a serious problem to solve.

*

Try as she might, Hermione could not locate Malfoy. For the remainder of Saturday, all day Sunday, and even into Monday, he was nowhere to be found. He didn’t reply to the messages she sent, didn’t show up for class or their N.E.W.T.s study group.

The Other One, she saw more often than she would like. Almost always at a distance, lurking in corridors or peeking out from behind pillars. Now that she knew what to look for, she recognized him by that slight bit of _glimmeriness_ he exhibited. Less substantial than a normal wizard, but only just. 

He spoke to her once, and it was enough to chill her blood. He’d stepped out from behind a Gothic column and whispered, spiking the hairs on the back of her neck.

“You’re the only one who can see me now,” he’d hissed. “But after the full moon, it won’t matter. A hundred others can surround you. I’ll be right by your side. They won’t see me, won’t accept it if you tell them. But you’ll know I’m there. Believe me, you will know. And one day, all of them will.” 

He’d vanished at the sound of laughter down the hall, leaving Hermione shaken by his mad ramblings but determined to stop him.

On Tuesday, Malfoy was back. Pale, subdued, and rather sour looking, but more solid than his unstable double. 

At study group, Hermione scribbled on a parchment and then passed it to him across the table. “Malfoy, here are the notes you missed from yesterday’s study session,” she told him.

In reality, the parchment contained only one word. _Truce._

He nodded curtly and slid the paper into a book. “Looks complicated, Granger. Could you… meet me tonight at eight in the library to discuss?”

At eight, they were seated across from each other once again, beside long windows that showed only darkness outside. Hermione had quickly filled him in on the things his double had told her, his instability, and the strange fleck in his eye.

Malfoy seemed unsurprised.

“Told you he wants to kill me,” he scowled. “Glad you decided not to go with a ‘seeing is believing’ approach or I might just wind up dead.”

“What matters is that I _do_ believe you. But we’ve got to solve this as quickly as possible. The full moon is tomorrow night!”

Draco nodded. “I spent the past two days at home in the library searching for a solution. No fucking luck. Came back last night and did the only plausible thing. Blaise and I Floo’ed his grandfather to admit what we’d done and ask for his help.”

“Go on.”

“Giovanni Zabini knows a lot about obscure magic. He suggested I find out what _your_ vision was, and then replicate it as best we could. He said you would be able to take it from there. That you’d know what to do. Seems a bit dodgy to me.”

But Hermione’s magical intuition told her this premise was at least partly correct. Malfoy had been focused on her when he split. Because he fancied her? Because he truly cared? She wasn’t totally sure, but one thing she did know— she was the link between him and his strange double, and she held the key to this problem’s resolution.

“Old Man Zabini said we’d need to reenact what _you_ saw in the game,” Draco said. And it seemed like— I mean, people think that— you saw _us._ Together. That we were…”

“I know what they think,” Hermione laughed and leaned back in her chair. “It’s all over the school. But that’s not what I saw at all.”

She described the night and the full moon of her vision, the high abandoned bridge, the mist, the struggle between the two Dracos. And the fall.

“That’s why I screamed,” she ended.

“Damn.” Draco’s scowl deepened. “The other scenario would have been a hell of a lot more fun to recreate. Did you recognize the bridge?”

Hermione shook her head. “There’s a lot of symbolism in my vision, Malfoy. I don’t think we need an actual bridge. What we need is to bring the two of you together. I do have a plan, but there’s something you need to know first. Professor Sinistra reminded us in class yesterday that tomorrow night is a rare event— a full, blood moon, accompanied by a total eclipse.”

“Powerful magic for the wizarding world,” Draco said, grasping the implications. “No wonder the other me plans to do his killing then.”

“Have Blaise shut down the Future Game for tomorrow night. We’ll need the _Camera Obscura_ all to ourselves.”

“For…?”

“A trap for the second Draco with both of us as bait. But first, we’ll have to lure him there.”

“How?”

“With a bit of play acting. If the other you is as mad as I think he is, he’ll fall for it.”

“What if you’re wrong?”

Hermione had no answer for that.

*

Well into that night and for most of the next day, Draco and Hermione were seen strolling around the castle, fingers linked.

Word spread through the school like Fiendfyre. Malfoy and Granger, together— holding hands, laughing, gazing into each other’s eyes. Slipping off down deserted corridors and into empty classrooms. No doubt hooking up. Pansy and Astoria were livid; the school was ablaze with excited speculation. Was Granger screaming Malfoy’s name, as she’d done in the Future Game?

And all the while, the parties in question went on with their plan to catch a soul thief, by playing on his jealousy.

It had taken the better part of the day, but finally, in an empty hallway on the fifth floor, Hermione saw the Other Draco peek out from behind a statue. 

“He’s here,” she whispered.

As planned, Malfoy backed her against the stone wall and linked their hands, his head dipping to her neck, his body pressed along the length of hers. His lips traveled over her skin, creating a trail that was both warm and shivery.

“Draco,” she moaned huskily, loud enough for anyone listening to hear. “Draco, I need you. Soon. Tonight.”

“Great acting, Granger,” Malfoy whispered, his teeth grazing her neck in hungry little nips. “Is he watching?”

“Yes. Oh, yes,” she gasped as he pressed against her. Harder. Tighter. With Malfoy this close, her arousal was no act. And if she’d ever wondered about the truth behind his fancying her? The fully erect evidence was jammed firmly against her stomach. 

“Draco,” she groaned loudly. “Have Blaise cancel the mirror game tonight. _Please._ Bribe him if you have to. Meet me in the _Camera Obscura._ At eleven.” Hermione’s voice broke on another gasp as Malfoy lifted her off the floor, her skirt climbing as she wrapped her legs around his hips, her arms around his neck. “I want you during the eclipse. Shadow over moon… until there’s nothing left but fire.”

“Astronomy sex. Kinky, Granger,” he chuckled, his voice heavy with desire. 

From the corner of one eye, Hermione saw Other Draco ball his shimmery hands into fists. “It’s working,” she breathed. 

“Hell yes, it is,” Malfoy growled, shifting her higher for maximum contact.

Suddenly, Astoria appeared around the corner, stalking toward them in tall boots that echoed like angry whip cracks against the stone floor.

Other Draco vanished. Hermione unhooked her legs and slid from Malfoy’s arms. Her heaving chest matched the rise and fall of his. They stared into each other’s eyes. Standing on tiptoe, she quickly kissed his cheek. 

“See you tonight,” she whispered. And with just the tiniest smidgen of an evil grin on her face, she hurried off in the other direction, leaving him to face Astoria’s wrath alone.

*

Hermione stood by the lone window of the _Camera Obscura,_ Blaise’s book of arcane spells open in one hand. She’d just spent a half hour conversing with Giovanni Zabini by Floo. The trap was set; the clock had struck eleven. There was nothing left to do but wait for Other Draco to appear.

Behind her, Malfoy prowled about like a restless panther.

“What did the old man say?” he asked from across the room.

“He said we need to capture the eclipse in the mirror,” she replied. “And that I’ll need a unification spell.” Hermione fiddled with one edge of the book, her eyes on the dark sky, her voice carefully casual. “Malfoy? I was wondering how you managed things with Astoria.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Granger. Why don’t _you_ tell _me_ how I managed? Did I drag her into an empty classroom and shag her senseless, to keep her from killing me before my other self could do it?”

Scowling, Hermione looked up to find Draco at her side, his gaze as fiercely intent as it had been on the night she’d first played the Future Game.

“I didn’t, you know.” His low, intimate growl made her shiver. His fingers trailed slowly down her arm, encircling her wrist. “And I wouldn’t. Not now.” 

Unable to stay hidden for long, the Malfoy smirk appeared. “I told Astoria I couldn’t be with her, ever. Because Blaise is my best mate, and he fancies her. Threw in that the Zabinis are even richer than the Malfoys, for good measure.”

“Is either of those things true, about Blaise?”

“Of course not. But Blaise owes me. Fucking stupid Future Game was his idea. If I’m getting attacked by my lunatic other half, then Blaise is getting stuck with Astoria. Fair’s fair.”

As Hermione pondered the Slytherin notion of fairness, Malfoy leaned on the window sill, watching the night sky. High above, the shadow across the moon’s face grew, gobbling up brightness as it went.

Without warning, Malfoy suddenly reeled backward, falling to the floor. Hermione screamed. In a streak of light and fire, Other Draco had burst through the window and was now perched atop Malfoy’s chest, hands wrapped in a stranglehold around his throat. 

The second Draco turned his head toward Hermione, eyes whirling with madness, the silver sliver bright and obvious. His gaze was mesmerizing, holding her, drawing her in. And suddenly Hermione knew. Giovanni Zabini had been right. She understood exactly what to do. 

The book of spells fell to the floor. She grabbed her wand and ducked behind the mirror. 

 

The two Dracos were on their feet now, struggling just as they had in her vision. As the moon’s face darkened, Hermione couldn’t tell which was which. But she knew she had to turn the tall mirror toward what was left of the moonlight.

She shrieked as one Draco threw the other against the window sill, attempting to shove him out. Hermione tilted the mirror this way, then that. 

“Malfoy!” she shouted.

The real Draco looked up. Hermione aimed the last of the moonlight straight into his eyes, completely ignoring his mad double. 

_“Exhortamini idem sapite. Erit… anima… una!”_ Brightness exploded from the tip of her wand, striking Malfoy full-on as the eclipse peaked, the corona flaring red in the mirror’s darkened depths. 

Other Draco disappeared in a burst of light, leaving only a quiet rainfall of violet sparks that showered down over Malfoy.

“Granger, bloody hell!” He struggled to catch his breath. “I thought you’d aim the moonlight at _him_ , not me.”

“That wouldn’t have worked.” With a relieved sigh, Hermione lowered her wand. “Other Draco was never quite real. Blaise’s grandfather said he was likely a projection of your imagination, created from moonlight.” She blushed, though Malfoy couldn’t see it in the darkness. “Subconsciously, you sent him… to tell me the things you didn’t feel free to express.” 

“I invented him?”

“Something like that. But because Other Draco was moonstruck, there was madness attached to him. He never understood that he was just an extension of you.”

Malfoy ran a hand through his hair, leaving spikes of it sticking out at odd angles. “Then I really do have a bloody sensitive side. And you’ve put it back where it belongs? This is a lot to take in,” he muttered.

“For a Malfoy, I guess it would be.” Hermione smiled. “But I know it’s real. I’ve experienced it firsthand.”

“I wonder if he really could have killed me,” Draco mused, rubbing his throat. “As it is, he made a fucking brilliant effort. You saved _all_ of me, Granger. Thanks.”

A ray of light broke from the mirror as the moon slipped free from the earth’s shadow. 

They looked into each other’s eyes. And suddenly she was in his arms, his mouth devouring hers, desire spiking along their veins like the finest liquor. Hunger on top of thirst on top of want, set free all at once and longing to be sated.

“Everything he told you was true,” Draco murmured feverishly against her lips. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for ages. Fancied you since first year. And right now? I’m going to show you just how much.” 

Scooping Hermione up, he carried her to the shabby couch, stretching out beside her and kissing her as if he’d never get enough, as if the world would end right then, right there, if he _didn’t_ kiss her. Hermione responded in kind, hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt, her body glued to his as if the words _close_ and _tight_ were completely insufficient.

“Draco?” she asked breathlessly. “What do you think we’d see if we played the Future Game tonight?” 

“Hopefully, our clothes all over the floor and you screaming my name for all the right reasons this time. Why?”

“Just confirming that you are the real Malfoy. I think that answer proves it.”

As the moon sailed west, its beams brushed the Mirror of Erised, bouncing off Giovanni Zabini’s Pensieve one last time. If anyone had cared to gaze into its light, they might have seen what the moon already knew. Someday, Granger and Malfoy’s daughters would be sorted into Slytherin. Every single one of them.

__

Fin

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thinks to captainraychill for brilliant beta work and awesome suggestions!!
> 
> Originally written for dramione_duet 2014.
> 
> The Latin ‘spell’ Hermione uses translates roughly as “Be of one mind, be of one soul.”
> 
> JK Rowling is the sole owner of the characters, items depicted, and overall setting. I own none of these.


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